E-mail me!

About Me

I was born in 1962; you do the math. (See also: I'm too lazy to remember to update this thing regularly.) I bought my first house in the summer of 2009; I share it three cats and with the memories of The Runt and Little Girl, who both passed away in 2011. Rocky, the cat for whom this blog was named, passed away in 2008; I miss them all. I wish I lived somewhere where the winters weren't eight months long; other than that, life is good.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The Worst Thanksgiving

I will be spending this Thanksgiving alone. Which is just fine with me. You see, our family's Thanksgiving dinner is held at TIB's house, and seeing as how TIB is not currently speaking to me, and will apparently spontaneously burst into flames at the very sight of me, I am not invited. And TIB is such a raging bitch that no one else in the family (that is, my sister Ditzy, the only other local family member) is willing to stand up to her.

But! Really, it's just fine. Thanksgiving at TIB's house is always pretty dismal. As her kids moved away and/or started having Thanksgiving at their in-laws', and seeing as how my family is spread out all over the country, the last few years it's just been TIB, her husband, my Mom, and me. Oh, and Ditzy would show up (usually with a boyfriend in tow) long enough to eat, and then leave. TIB and her husband would get looped, TIB's psychotic daughter L. would show up long enough to pitch a fit, and just ....... blech. You get the picture. And Mom doesn't know it's Thanksgiving, anyway. Last year she thought it was Easter.

So! I will spend Thanksgiving out in the woods on a nice long walk, trying not to get shot at by drunken deer hunters (LOTS of blaze orange!) and then I will enjoy my favorite foods (none of which are turkey, and almost all of which are technically appetizers), and I will surely have a beer or two. Maybe even a (gasp) mixed drink! Because it's Thanksgiving! Woo-hoo! (Shaky sob) (KIDDING!!)

My worst Thanksgiving was in 2002. My sister Alabama's long-time companion had passed away completely unexpectedly shortly before, and the funeral/memorial services were scheduled for Thanksgiving weekend. On the west coast. And I live on the east coast. So, some of us locals started looking for last-minute plane tickets, and the only way we could do it and fly out together was to fly on Thanksgiving Day, and catch the red-eye back that Sunday night.

Oh, don't ever do that. The plane from Syracuse to JFK was almost empty, and we were all excited, like, "Yippee! We've got the plane to ourselves!" But then we had a several hour layover in JFK before the flight to Ontario (California, not Canada), and let me tell you, airports are grim places on Thanksgiving Day. Steam table turkey, anyone? (Trust me, just say no.)

And the flight to California? Was packed. To the gills. With (I shit you not) Hasidic Jews on their way to a diamond-dealers convention. I swear I am not kidding. Now, I had never really been around many Hasidic Jews before, so I really had no pre-conceived notions, but, the people on this plane? Were assholes. Lots of them were bringing along the wife and kids, and those kids would scream, and scream, and SCREAM, and the parents would just ignore them. Until a flight attendant would politely ask them to maybe, um, PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR KID, and they would. And then the next kid would start up. I swear, they could probably hear those kids screaming on the space shuttle.

And? They all had to go to the bathroom. All the time. Kids, adults, everybody, there was a line for the bathrooms all the way down the plane THE ENTIRE FIVE HOUR FLIGHT. I swear, they would go to the bathroom, walk down the aisle, and get right back in line.

OK, gotta go, this is way too long. Sorry if any Hasidic Jews are taking offense. I do not mean to cause offense. I am not posting here about Hasidic Jews in general. I am only saying that the Hasidic Jews on that particular flight WERE ASSHOLES.

Good for you. The wife and I are going to Disney.Believe it or not, her idiot family decided to fly to Disney after hearing that we are going. They decided this around three days ago!I told the wife: "This vacation is you and me. Not your family."